Lessons Learned
by DarthRuinous
Summary: A young noble boy from Naboo embarks on an adventure in the murky jungles of his home planet. A short story of 3-4 parts.
1. Chapter 1

**.**

 **Lessons Learned**

 **Chapter 1: Impulsion**

Most eight year old Naboo knew better than to brave the jungle lands just beyond Theed's borders. Most eight year old Naboo feared the mysterious Gungan warriors that roamed those swamps. Most eight year old Naboo were not Sheev Palpatine.

Yet even then, Sheev Palpatine was not the type of boy to blatantly put himself in harm's way. Unless, of course, it perfectly suited his intentions.

Like defying Father until the red flamed in the aristocratic cheeks.

Or staying alive in the jungles just beyond the boundaries of Theed.

This was where he found himself presently, stumbling over the thick roots of the sprawling trees. Next time he would have to keep a much closer eye on security before trying to steal the headmaster's triple-fin speeder and take it for a joyride…

He glanced back at the once-immaculate machine, now half buried in the spongy swampland, its engines flooded and the passenger compartment almost completely underwater. Sheev sniffed and brushed a clinging, slimy plant from his sleeve.

The better course of action would have been to simply ignore the headmaster, obviously. But the man's hard hand across his face reminded him too much of Father, and he admittedly had not been thinking straight when he hacked into the speeder's locking system. The last school had certainly been helpful in teaching him certain skills, ones that the teachers would have paled to know he learned.

He should have waited. Next time, he would. But he had wanted revenge, and he had not counted on the swift response of the school's security officer, leading to a chase halfway across the capital city and into the thickets of Gungan territory. Even at the tender age of eight, Sheev's ability to pilot speeders proved impressive. There at the edge of civilization, the officer had called off the chase, and Sheev had allowed his concentration to become lax.

In unfamiliar territory.

Hence the sunken speeder.

And his arm hurt.

He glared at the offending machine.

Swamps were not the safest places to be on Naboo. Narglatches and a whole host of unpleasant creatures lurked within, not even considering the wild and uncultured Gungans, and Sheev kept a wary eye on his surroundings as he trudged in a general uphill direction. Small and thin for his age, he was not imposing even among his own kind, so he knew he would make a tasty snack for any enterprising swamp creature.

He clutched his personal snub-nosed blaster close under his right sleeve. Father did not know he possessed one, but he had gotten it very cheaply off the black market in Theed and made a few modifications of his own. The handle fit better now in his small grip, and he always hid it under the fifth bridge on his way home from school.

He held no illusions that he would be going back to that school anytime soon.

A rustling in the brush nearby brought his senses to high alert, but the still, small voice in him did not warn of danger, and he scowled as a small nuna scrambled out and across his path. Nunas were singleminded, flightless creatures, the bottom of the food chain on most planets. He watched it disappear on the opposite side of the trail and tilted his head to listen for any pursuers. None. A spooked nuna only, then.

Father would doubtless be angry when he got home late tonight. He might cuff him once or twice and send him to bed without dinner. Sheev discovered he was having a difficult time caring as the beauty of the swamp spread out before him. He studied the tall root-trees, their gnarled bases nearly as big and tangled as their crowns and filled with calling wildlife and buzzing insects.

Naboo felt alive in here, like it never felt on the plains or even up in the mountains. He listened to all the different sounds and realized with a start that he could not even see the sun, so thick was the vegetation overhead.

Something called to him within the shadows of his mind, huffed on his left, and he leapt forward just in time to avoid a large body slamming into his own. Spinning and half-crouched, Sheev stared at the newcomer. A large creature mirrored his pose only meters away, reminding him of the gualamas at home but different somehow. It lacked the high sweeping horns, but grimaced with a collection of thick, powerful molar-like teeth. Its tail, lashing the weeds behind it, was much longer and wider than a gualama's, as though the creature swam more than ran.

Sheev noticed the faint yellow stripe along its flank, then it hit him. Literally. He cried out as the creature lunged forward and caught him in the shoulder. He rolled desperately, avoiding the splayed hooves and snapping teeth, and mid-roll he realized what grunted and hissed over him.

A Zalaaca.

One of House Palpatine's sigils. He saw it every day on the crest in the main hall of Convergence.

How ironic that it was doing its active best to kill him. Sheev twisted and scowled when one claw bit deep into his shoulder, pinning him to the earth. Ignoring the pain, pain was nothing, he curled in on himself and bit the creature's leg as hard as he could through the fur.

The Zalaaca yelped and leapt away, circling a few scant meters away as the young human clutched his shoulder. Father would be upset about the torn robe.

It did not move to attack immediately, seeming unsure and nervous, and Sheev blinked. It was a youngling, like him. The stripe was not bright enough to be an adult. The size was still much smaller than a gualama. A youngling… thinking it could eat _him_! He cursed it with a Huttese curse he learned at his last school, one Father was very angry he knew.

The Zalaaca hissed back, its wide red mouth flaring open in a challenging display. Sheev laughed in spite of his serious situation. How ridiculous it looked!

The strangest thing happened then. The colt stopped in its tracks and looked at the human, and for the briefest of moments Sheev got the impression that it had been insulted. He locked eyes with it and did not look away, and something told him that this was very important to do.

The creature dipped his head and snorted loudly. Hissed again.

Use the blaster, Sheev's cold mind told him. Use the blaster, and he could be on his way. He was a good shot, and the Zalaaca's eyes were large and easy targets. Slowly he pulled the snub-nose blaster from its holster in his sleeve and lifted the barrel until the colt's eyes were directly in his sights.

Was it… ashamed? To be caught so easily? He hesitated when it huffed at him.

Kill it. He should just kill it and go on. No reason to spare it, or it would just try to eat him again. But it was powerful and beautiful and strong, like nothing he ever found in the Lake Country, and he was fascinated in spite of himself. He found his arm lowering slowly, and the Zalaaca sniffed the air with large nostrils. It called, a strange snorting tunneled sound that echoed and died in the thick trees around them.

Eyes still locked, his other arm lifted with palm out, and the Zalaaca crept forward on wide, clawed hooves, snorting with warning. But Sheev felt no danger for himself, and it emboldened him to stand his ground.

The nose that greeted his fingers was soft, so soft, and he nearly jerked back in surprise at the sensation. Like the finest silk imported from Alderaan. The skin underneath was firm and warm and dry. He stroked the nose between the nostrils, and the Zalaaca hummed under his hand.

"You have a family?" he broke the silence, feeling both awkward and silly for asking, because a Zalaaca could not talk, but feeling that he might suffocate if he said nothing much longer in these swamps.

The Zalaaca rumbled and squeaked and nudged at his hand, tugging a half smile to his thin lips.

"They ought to keep a closer eye on you. Never know what you might run into out here, hm?"

It bobbed in agreement, more likely searching him out as a possible source of food. He pushed the head away when it bumped his narrow chest. "I'm not your family _or_ your food."

"Hurrruuuppp…" it protested and sniffed his face. His vision filled with its wide, curious expression, unnaturally intelligent and scanning him closely.

He tensed, never liking anything so close to him. It was easy to be hurt when living things got this close.

But the Zalaaca did not hurt him, and the shadows in his mind remained still and blanketed over him, and he knew he had nothing to fear, at least not from this creature. He placed a slender hand between its eyes and stared into the red orbs. "You are magnificent," he whispered. Father had used the word once to describe the view from Convergence.

This was better, so much better. It was alive and real, and it was strong enough to eat him, but it did not. It bowed to the pressure in his hand instead, sliding to its bony knees in the muck and dipping its long head low. He touched the faintly yellow ears in awe. Why was it submitting to him?

He jerked his head up at a strange warbling cry coming from the direction the Zalaaca had taken. It tensed under his hand and stood, towering over him already by half a meter. The cry separated out into half a dozen high-pitched, peculiarly accented voices as it drew closer. Intelligent life! Sheev put a hand on the Zalaaca's nose to calm it, and the bond between them hit him like a physical shock.

Several meters ahead on the animal trail, a party of Gungan warriors and younglings burst onto the scene, reining in their Kaduus with startled wariness at the sight in front of them. One of the foremost younglings whooped in defeated anger. Sheev froze in place. He had seen Gungans before, certainly, but only a rare one or two in the city, and there they were meek and silent. Father said this was because they knew their proper place. Sheev was not sure he believed Father.

Anyway, this was much different. This was a raiding party of some sort, bristling with sharp weapons and energy lassos. He scrambled through his mind for the latest news from school about the tentative Gungan-human peace accords. Surely they would not risk war for one trespassing young boy. He could not help the apprehension closing the back of his throat as two of the Gungans dismounted and strode in his direction, in that floppy way of theirs.

The first Gungan to arrive was taller than the others and seemed somehow thinner too. His eyes perched large on the top of his head, but Sheev only had eyes for the long spear gripped in the mottled pink and grey left hand. "Heyo dalee! Who yousa?"

The spear remained pointed at the sky, and he replied slowly, back ramrod straight. "Sheev Palpatine, of House Palpatine. Naboo."

He carefully tracked his gaze along the length of the spear until he found the Gungan's reptilian face, which split in a wide smile at last.

"Sheevy Palpatines, mesa Tarpas. Yousa lost?"

"Sidetracked," he admitted, keeping his tone and words polite, struggling not to roll his eyes at the mutilation of his name. "I lost control of my speeder back there."

The other Gungan stepped closer and paused when the Zalaaca colt hissed at him. "Tarpas, hesa bonded mui fasto with the cub."

Tarpas glanced at the other Gungan, then back to Sheev. "How yousa be doing disa?"

Sheev blinked as he interpreted the Gungans' strange speech patterns. "Doing what?"

"Yousa forming the bond with him. Hisens not supposed to do that."

Sheev tensed. "I'm… sorry? I was not trying to." The Zalaaca pushed its wide head into his chest again. He clutched its muzzle to avoid falling over backwards. Why was it obsessed with him, indeed? He had not asked for this, not at all. What a miserable day this was turning out to be.

The other Gungan snorted. "Hesa so smallen. Tiny hisen."

The familiar tug of anger threatened to choke unkind words from his mouth, so Sheev turned back to Tarpas. "I apologize if I trespassed. I'll leave immediately." Father would be furious enough about the incident at school; to add this on would leave him bruised for weeks instead of days. He did not actively want to make his punishment worse this time.

Tarpas nudged the other Gungan. "Not the size, wesa worried about, but the skill. Hesa got a cub of hisa own."

"Was Par Nap's cub, stolen now," the other grumbled.

Not liking the look daggering his way, Sheev glanced at the more distant Gungans and swallowed when he noticed the glare of the youngling who had shouted angrily only moment earlier. "I didn't mean it. He can have it back, and gladly."

This was not a fight he could hope to win.

The Zalaaca rumbled against his chest, almost in protest. Tarpas exchanged solemn looks with the other Gungan and then shook his head, ears flopping forward. "Too late for dat. Yousa bonded now, and nothing isa breakin' dat but the Big Sleep."

Sheev tilted his head. "Do you mean death?"

Tarpas nodded. "Hesa yous cub now."

Dismay flooded him along with a faint stirring of excitement. His? The Zalaaca nipped at his hand, startling him back to the moment. "He can't be mine, I can't do anything with him, certainly I can't take him with me." Father would fly into a rage.

"Hesa be pining for yousa," Tarpas cautioned. "Dees cubs survive on the master's will-good. Shu."

"I can't… He can't come with me," Sheev shrugged, feeling both angry and helpless. "Even if I wanted to."

Did he? Maybe.

Tarpas nodded, appearing to understand. "Then hesa has to stay, but yousa musten be coming back to visit and often-days, yousa know. This one, hesa being tied to yousa now. Wiltin' without yous ca, mesa tinking."

Sheev thought of Father, how Cosinga would be horrified to find his son interacting with the Gungan people, and he smiled a little. Then he looked back at the colt. "Maybe I will," he finally said, tilting his head back to regard the humanoid in a new light. They were not quite like Father said…

Tarpas smiled. "Wesa helpin' yousa find the best feetwalken back. Mui big jungle, dissen is, for such a little hisen."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 **A short little 3-4 part story dealing with a possible (mis?)adventure in young Palpatine's life. That kid gets in more trouble sometimes… Legends compliant, and new-canon compliant too, as far as I can tell.**


	2. Crime and Punishment

**.**

 **Lessons Learned**

 **Chapter 2: Crime and Punishment**

It took two weeks before Sheev could manage to get away to the swamps again. After Father had displayed his… strong displeasure over the incident with the headmaster's speeder, the eight-year-old had been locked in his room for five days. Of course, he was not going back to the old school, so he had a brief reprieve while Father negotiated for his enrollment at a strict Academy for Boys on the opposite side of the city. He could hear them over the hologram, trying to convince Father that their methods were highly effective, and he laughed darkly.

He liked a good challenge.

Once allowed out of his room, Sheev took time to study the patterns of Father's new bodyguards who were assigned to keep an eye on him. He built up his strength again slowly, eating small amounts of food here and there, though his appetite had never been healthy in the best of circumstances, and his stomach permanently hurt most of the time, although he had learned to ignore it.

He focused on the guards, learned their tricks and tells and practiced with small journeys out of sight in the Lake Country. They would never tell Father as long as he came back, because their jobs and futures would be forfeit if he knew. They pleaded with him, bribed him, and he smiled and accepted their groveling with no intention to honor the bargains. Bargains made under duress did not count.

So Sheev expanded his range until two weeks had passed and Father's guard lowered as much as it ever would, then he hitchhiked a ride on a local middle class family's speeder (he could be charming when he wanted to), and made his way into Theed, and from Theed he caught a taxi to the outskirts of Gungan territory. He left careful instructions for the taxi cab driver to wait for him, and poured a substantial amount of Father's credit chips into his hands for the meantime.

The taxi driver was very happy to wait as long as needed when he counted the full amount. Father wouldn't notice anything missing, most likely.

When Sheev arrived at the place where he had met the Gungans, naturally no one was there, but the trail was clearly marked with his given name in very rough, nearly unintelligible letters. So at least one of the Gungans could communicate… He followed the markers, trying to still the flutterbugs in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Perhaps it had been foolish to return, but he was curious.

Would the colt even remember him? Would it attack him again?

The shadows in his mind whispered. He twisted to look behind him and noticed a thick bush rustling. "Hello." He hoped he sounded braver than he felt.

"Heyo dalee!" Tarpas nudged his Kaadu out onto the open trail and smiled down at the human boy. The Gungan looked much less aggressive this time, bearing only a long stun spear and slingshot strapped to his thigh. "Yousa brave, coming back liken dis."

Sheev shrugged. "Where is he?"

Tarpas smiled. "All hissens so hasty-hasty? Yousa colt wanten to see yousa. Comen then, my taken you to the pens."

Sheev waited warily as the Gungan brought his Kaadu mount closer and extended one long, slightly slimy hand. Repressing a shudder, Sheev accepted it and allowed himself to be pulled up with surprising strength onto the Kaadu just behind the roughhewn leather saddle. For a moment, he was afraid he would fall off the sloping back, but Tarpas guided his hands to a small hold on the back of the saddle.

"Yousa hang on, disen get bumpy. Not far."

Bumpy enough to rattle his teeth, Sheev discovered as the Kaadu loped through the swampy underbrush, every step sure but jolting. It was nothing like riding a Gualama, nothing like the smooth four-footed gait of his father's trained stallions. He didn't like its scaly skin either, cold and rough and so unlike the fur he liked to dig his fingers into.

Tarpas kept up a fast pace, and before an hour had passed, the Gungan slowed the Kaadu to an awkward trot, and Sheev had never been so grateful to dismount from a living creature. He slid to the spongy earth on legs that trembled from the effort to stay mounted, but he soon forgot the ache when he spotted the cobbled-together pens a small length away in an artificial clearing. They numbered half a dozen, and each pen contained a small handful of Zalaaca cubs of varying sizes and genders. Several Gungans walked between the pens, carrying buckets of food to the hungry animals.

A soft wailing cry rose up from the closest pen, and Sheev instantly knew it was his colt. Stumbling a bit as he found his legs again, the young boy made his way to the edge of the pen, clutching the soft twined wood and staring intently.

Yes, it was his colt, just as perfect as before and filled with energy as it loped up and down along the far side of the pen. For moment, he admired the dull stripe on its side, the sleekness of its muscles. Here now, Sheev was unsure what to do. Did he call it? If so, what should he say? Whistle? "Hey, you!" he tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper.

The Zalaaca froze mid stride and pinwheeled on its hind legs, arching up like a Gualama and landing on four stiff limbs as its broad intelligent head rotated to locate him. Sheev's eyes widened, and he took half a step back. How had it heard him? Finally the large red eyes sought him out, and the colt instantly broke into a jagged gallop across the pen.

Tarpas laughed from behind him when Sheev took another step back. The Gungan put out a hand and laid it on his shoulder. "Hesa happy to be seen yousa."

Why…. Sheev thought dully, shaking the Gungan loose with an irritated confusion. No one was ever happy to see him. He understood that, was comfortable with that. Why did this wild animal see him any differently?

"Go on, hesa wants yousa to be petten him."

At Tarpas's encouragement, Sheev carefully made his way back to the edge of the pen, and the Zalaaca chirped softly. Sheev took a deep breath, extending one shaking hand, and the Zalaaca pressed its nose against him once more, just as soft as before. Sheev fought a smile.

Tarpas didn't try to fight the goofy grin spreading on his wide lips. "Hesa yousa colt, all righten! Mesa never seen colts bonden liken dis. What hisa name?"

"Name?" Sheev blinked in surprise. Well, of course, a colt needed a name. He stared at it for a long moment, until he nodded. "Galo."

Tarpas tilted his odd head on his stilt neck. "Galo?"

Sheev finally let his grin out as he scratched the colt's turned neck. "Yes, in Naboo it means 'one who crows.' He has a lot of sounds he makes. I like them."

The Gungan did a fair impression of crowing as well, his laughter echoing over the pens. "Disa muy bombad name!" He took off for the other side of the pen. "Wesa let him out to run now."

Feeling the sting of curiosity and alarm, Sheev hurried after him. He hated being so short, having to take twice the number of steps as his father and any other adult just to keep up. But he doubled his pace and watched Tarpas undo the gate lock. On the other side, Galo danced eagerly in place, wide hooves beating a pattern into the green muck. Sheev squinted suspiciously at the colt.

"Are you sure he won't run away?"

Tarpas opened the gate as an answer, and Sheev stepped aside just in time to avoid getting run down by his own colt. Galo tore past them both and dashed for the far side of the clearing, frolicking up the slope and kicking out his hind legs. Sheev worried his lower lip and glanced at Tarpas, but the Gungan did not seem concerned in the slightest.

"Is… is he going to come back?"

Tarpas looked down at him, and the Gungan's smile faded. "Yousa haven things be runnen out allen the time on yousa?"

Sheev scowled instantly. "No."

Tarpas nodded and smiled more gently this time. "Hesa comen back. Looky looky."

Sheev looked. Indeed, Galo had stopped halfway up the incline and now galloped back their direction, clearly pleased to be free of the pen and startling half a dozen Gungan children as he thundered through their midst. Their squeals of mingled fear and delight echoed across the clearing. Tarpas waved his arms and whooped in that strange way of his.

Galo turned and threaded his way up between the pens, rumbling to a stop in front of the human and Gungan, breathing heavily and chirping so steadily it almost sounded like a purr. Sheev touched his warm side. Instantly, something like another presence pressed on his mind, and he jerked away, turning to Tarpas. "He doesn't like being caged up."

Tarpas nodded, eyes taking on a shrewd wisdom that Sheev really did not care for. "Few do. Wesa run him today."

And so they did, taking Galo out beyond the pens into the swamps, and Sheev forgot for a time that he was going to get in trouble, forgot that he had a mansion to go home to. Here, time seemed to stand still, and it was not until he was gasping for breath that he realized how long they had spent running through the swamps, training Galo to come at his call and leap on command, and many other tricks Tarpas was happy to teach them both.

When at last Sheev slid to his knees on the soft ground and Galo heaved contentedly onto his back beside him and wriggled in the grass, the sun had lowered halfway out of the sky. Sheev reached out to touch his flank and noticed how the mud had streaked up his sides, dousing the bright colors in dull brown. As if Tarpas was thinking the same thing, the Gungan pressed a rough brush into his hand. "Strengthen the bond, yousa will. Take care of him, hesa yours now."

Sheev straightened up, and Galo rolled over against him, long neck curving over his shoulder. The colt nudged his shoulder, and he winced. Right against one of the deepest bruises. "Stop that," he muttered, shoving at the wide head.

Galo chittered and lifted his broad head, thick molars grinding.

They sat in companionable silence while Sheev brushed the mud from Galo's scaled sides. Tarpas leaned his back against a thick, gnarled tree and watched the human work, tilting his head when he noticed the determined gleam in the boy's eyes.

Tarpas grinned, and his face was no longer quite so alien as it had been. "Yousa serious boy, too muchen so, mesa tinkin'."

Sheev sighed between strokes. "I have a lot to think about."

"Yousa should have mui bombad times, yousa just a boy."

"Naboo live differently than Gungans," he said. "You know I'll start my mandatory service in four years in our government, unless Father wants me to start earlier? It's very rigorous."

Tarpas stared blankly at him. Did the humanoid know what the word meant?

Sheev sighed. "Of course you wouldn't understand. Do Gungans even have a government?"

The tall alien chortled merrily, the human's blunt lack of tact sloughing off his shoulders with practiced ease. "Oh, berry berry, wesa have government, though dissen be easier than yousa hissen's. Wesa not so picky. Wesa like our young'uns smilin'."

Sheev cracked a thin smirk as he stroked the rough brush across Galo's scaled left flank and conceded the point. "Humans must seem halfway to protocol droids to your kind."

Tarpas whooped his strange laugh, then grew more serious. "Wesa not so different, mesa tinkin'." Galo turned toward him as the Gungan leaned forward and grudgingly accepted the dark grey moss from his long-fingered hand. "But mesa also tinkin' it's not the government maken yousa so serious."

A thousand insects buzzed in the silence that followed his awkward statement. Sheev rubbed a little harder at the dirt stain on the Zalaaca's shoulder. No doubt Tarpas had seen the bruises on his arms. Careless of him to roll his sleeves up to brush Galo. He surreptitiously pulled them down again. "I have a lot to think about," he repeated stubbornly. It was not Tarpas' place to pry into such things. It was not anyone's.

Their conversation died then, because Sheev felt nothing but the cold brush of reality now. He glanced at the distant sky through the canopy of tree limbs. He had stayed far too long! He needed to get home before Father… well. Before Father grew too angry. There was pushing it, and then there was _pushing_ it. Being caught out after dark was sure to earn him Cosinga's ire. This, out here, this was child's play. Something he had no business engaging in.

He finished the last brush stroke, and Galo's hide was clean and beautiful again. Feeling an indescribable sense of disappointment, the young boy clambered to his feet, brushing ineffectively at the stains on his own robes. "I have to get home," he told Tarpas.

"Wesa helpen yousa get back."

"No." He shook his head. "No, I can find my own way." And he hurried past the tall Gungan before the humanoid could see the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. This was foolishness. He should not come back, even if he wanted to. His booted feet led him straight and true, with the strange sense that always guided him, and the swamp no longer frightened him. Ot when there was something worse that waited at home.

The taxi driver was still patiently waiting when he emerged from the swamps, covered in dirt and exhausted. Thankfully, no questions were asked as he slipped into the back seat and the driver took off for Theed.

From Theed, he managed to catch a ride in the back of a farmer's double-jointed speeder, without the farmer noticing, of course.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to get into Convergence without being noticed, since the dining room was centrally located and each of the main hallways crossed it. Sheev winced when he opened the front doors and was met with the disapproving scowls of his father's guards. The tallest one pointed at the dining room.

Another scoffed down at him. "Looks like you had a rough time there, kid."

Sheev glared at him and dragged himself past, unheeding of the trail of dirt and mud he was leaving behind on the gleaming stone floor. Convergence was dark by nature, lit with both artificial and natural torches, stone walls covered in ancient rugs and wall hangings, as Father always appreciated tradition. Shadows flickered across the walls as he walked, as though mocking him with shivering silent laughter.

When he reached the wide arched entry of the dining hall, Sheev winced and lowered his head.

"Where were you?" Father growled from his place at the head of the table. The entire family – why the entire family? – sat around the table in stony silence, Mother's head bowed and all of his siblings staring into their full plates, except for his closest brother who grinned mockingly at him.

 _Interloper,_ that grin said.

Sheev ignored him and lifted his head to meet his father's stormy eyes. "Out, Father."

Cosinga huffed. "One of your teachers, Bakro, saw you taking a taxi to the outskirts of the city."

Well. That teacher would be getting an unpleasant surprise before long, Sheev thought. There was no call to report on his movements like he was some criminal. Unless… unless Father had recruited the academic master to spy on his own son. Either possibility was equally depressing.

"I was exploring."

Cosinga's eyes narrowed with barely concealed rage. "Exploring? When I confined you to the house? You deliberately disobeyed me."

Sheev hid his flinch with a haughty toss of his shaggy red hair. "I was getting bored."

The chair rocked back on the stones with a clatter as Cosinga launched out of his seat. Sheev's brother laughed when the eldest son took a step back as the father rounded on him from the table's end.

Sheev's blood boiled at that laugh, and he froze in place. _You don't belong,_ his brother's eyes mocked him. _He hates you, you know._

He knew.

Cosinga loomed over him. "Bored? You use a flimsy excuse like that to get your way?"

"Five days in one place is a long time, Father," Sheev spat, eyeing his snickering brother with utter loathing. "If it was up to you, I'd be stuck in there forever, wouldn't I? You don't care."

The slap caught him across the ear and sounded like thunder. Sheev cringed back, his hearing ringing, his balance upended, and he heard his mother softly gasp.

Cosinga reached down and gripped his thin arm like a vise, then he shook him roughly until Sheev stopped resisting. "Stupid fool. You'll learn your place, I promise you that. Look at you, looking like something a tooka dragged in. This is no way for a nobleman's son to behave. You embarrass me. In front of the guards. In front of my own family."

Sheev didn't answer for a moment. Wasn't he family too?

Cosinga sighed and stepped forward, never releasing his grip on Sheev's arm, and Sheev knew there were would be a fresh line of bruises in the morning, but that was the least of his concerns, because Cosinga leaned closer and hissed, "If confining you to quarters doesn't get my point across, I'll make it another way, Sheev. Get upstairs."

Resisting the urge to glance at his useless mother, Sheev lowered his head further. "I lost track of time, Father, that's all. I meant to be back earlier." That, at least, was true.

It made little difference. Cosinga shook his head. "You failed. You always fail. To listen. To do well. To do anything. I've been too easy on you, clearly." He lowered his deep voice to a hiss. "Get. Up. Stairs."

Sheev went. The tone of his father's voice was black with rage, echoing in his mind as he climbed the dark steps of the grand staircase and made his way to his cold room. Once inside, he loosed a shaky sigh and slid down against the far wall, not bothering to turn on the lights. He had gone too far. Father was angry, angry like he hadn't been in months and months. All because he wanted to play with a stupid animal….

He hadn't been thinking logically. Now he was going to pay for it.

 _No…. Father should be the one to pay…_ Sheev blinked. Where had that thought come from? It was not new, but he had buried it away for his own safety, just like the strange power that ran through his limbs.

 _But he should. You were perfectly in your right to go out. He isn't your owner. No one owns you… Someday they will all see that._

The door slammed open, and Sheev jerked his head up. Cosinga stood silhouetted in the doorframe, a long leather belt curling in his large hands, his heavy brows beetling with hot anger.

Sheev flattened his small hands against the cool floor.

"Get up," Cosinga growled.

This would hurt. He swallowed the whimper in the back of his throat. And got up.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 **Poor Sheev, life's a roller coaster sometimes. :( But at least he has Galo and Tarpas. For now.**

 **I'm sorry for the long absence. Things have been happening, and life has gotten busy and complicated. I miss writing stories, as they are a source of enjoyment for me. I'm hoping to get back into writing more regularly again and continue my tales.**


End file.
